Chapter LIV: "the Best of Men Have Their Failings."

Fanny doesn't think so. She expresses her opinion as follows:--

"I wish I could ever take up a paper that endorsed my liberal sentiments. I've always warped to the opinion that good men were as safe as homoeopathic pills. You don't suppose they ever patronize false words or false weights, false measures or false yardsticks? You don't suppose they ever slander their neighbors after making a long-winded exhortation in a vestry meeting? You don't suppose they ever lift their beavers to a long purse, and turn their backs on a thread-bare coat? You don't suppose they ever bestow a charity to have it trumpeted in the newspapers? You don't suppose when they trot devoutly to meeting twice a day on Sunday, that they overhaul their ledgers in the intermission? You don't suppose they ever put doubtful-looking bank bills in the contribution box? You don't suppose they ever pay their minister's salary in consumptive hens and damaged turkies? I wish people were not so uncharitable and suspicious. It disgusts me with human nature.

"Now if I once hear a man make a prayer, that's enough said. After _that_, Gabriel couldn't make me believe he was a sinner. If his face is of an orthodox length, and his creed is dyed in the wool, I consider him a prepared subject for the undertaker. If his toes are on an evangelical platform, I am morally certain his eyes never will go on a 'Tom Fool's errand.' If he has a proper reverence for a church-steeple, I stake my life on it, his conduct will be perpendicular. I should be perfectly willing to pin my faith on his sleeve till the final consummation of all things. Yes, I've the most unswerving, indestructible, undying confidence in any man who owns a copy of Watts' Psalms and Hymns. Such a man _never_ trips, or if he does, you never _catch him_ at it!"